


His Three Girls

by ardentmuse



Category: Mother of the Year (Visual Novel)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: Late nights mean Thomas doesn't always get to sleep in his own bed.
Relationships: Thomas Mendez/Main Character (Mother of the Year), Thomas Mendez/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	His Three Girls

Work had been exhausting. Since returning from his honeymoon — two weeks on the beach alternating between enjoying the natural beauty of the water and making slow, passionate, blissful love to his new wife over and over again — Thomas is spending many late nights catching up on all the case work he had missed. A month now with the new Mrs. Mendez to come home to and he had yet to make it home before dinner.

But things are finally winding down. Pending any major disasters, his latest settlement offer should be accepted by the morning and Thomas could begin enjoying this beautiful chapter of his life he never thought he’d see, one where he comes home to the brilliant faces of not one but two sharp and thoughtful daughters and falls asleep at night holding the strongest, more caring woman against his chest.

Thomas sneaks into his own house, careful not to slam the door as he steps into the threshold. The winter storms are coming on now. Slick sleet is covering the streets and the strange combination of thunderstorms and flurry showers mean Thomas is a little drenched through his coat and his dress shoes need a proper polish. 

Thomas strips of his outerwear quietly and slinks into the kitchen. He looks to the clock. The numbers flash 12:00 repeatedly; power outages around the region. Thomas sighed. It could be 10 PM or 4 AM for all his brain knows. He’s just tired. 

By the time he makes it to his bedroom door, he’s ready to simply fall in— no brushing teeth or combing hair or stripping down properly. He doesn’t even think he’ll bother peppering his wife with kisses. She also deserves her rest for putting up with his schedule. But when he enters his bedroom — not his but theirs he corrects his brain — he stops dead.

The television mounted on the wall is paused on the credits of some movie he can’t recognize. The fireplace glows with embers still warm and inviting. Mugs of hot chocolate sit mostly finished upon his nightstand. And in the middle of the mattress lay his wife — god, she really is stunning — dressed in her warmest pajamas deep in sleep. On her right lays Y/D/N, nuzzling into her mother’s shoulder and smiling in her sleep. And on his wife’s left is Luz, clinking gently to her stepmom’s hips as she rests her head against her rib cage.

Thomas blinks as he feels tears swell in his eyes. His life, his content but bland life, exploded when Y/N came into it. He really never believed love would find him again but there was no stopping the way you wormed into his mind, warmed his heart, and sent his loins to attention. You reminded him that he was a man, a man capable of loving a woman with every bit of himself, loss or no. And to see you here, in his life, filling it with the kinds of simple joys that make it all worth living, was enough to make him weak for the moment.

My girls. 

With a sigh, one of both resignation and longing, Thomas moves slowly to the bed. He kisses his daughter, and then yours, upon the forehead, before turning his attention to you. 

He takes in your face, the soft lines and plump curves that he is enjoying memorizing every morning. He brushes a hand across your forehead, pushing away the loose hairs before offering you, in all your perfect motherly essence, a forehead kiss as well.

And with one last look upon his perfect new life, Thomas leaves his room for his office, where he makes do on the sofa bed for the night. 

The next morning, Thomas awakens to the smell of pancakes and sausage wafting his way from the kitchen. He hears the laughter of his daughter and the soft hums of you as you undoubtedly sing one of Levi’s new songs as you scramble eggs. His life really was turning into something immeasurably happy. 

He only takes a few moments getting ready before he joins you in the kitchen, surprising you with a tight grab around the waist.

“How’d you sleep, Mrs. Mendez?” he purred in your ear, his fingers dancing across the fabric of your apron.

You turn in his hold, a wide smile on your face. “You’re never going to tire of calling me that, are you?” 

Thomas just laughs, “No, I won’t, not so long as that title is yours.”

He kisses you then, full and passionate as he clings to your waist. It’s enough to make you lightheaded if not for the girls interrupting from their place at the barstools.

“We slept great, dad,” Y/D/N pipes up. It still warms Thomas to hear her call him that. Sure, she has Guy now but Thomas likes to believe he is more of a father than that oaf ever could be. And the day your daughter approached him after dinner and asked if she could call him dad was the night be decided it was finally time to give you the engagement ring he’d been holding onto for months, since your third real date without the girls. It hadn’t taken him long to know you were the one. It just took him some time to figure out how it all might fit together.

Luz lets out a laugh, “Yeah, Mom had us watch some movie called Die Hard. A guy fell out of a building! It was awesome!”

Thomas rolls his eyes at just how predictable his daughter is. 

Thomas turns to you, “Die Hard? Really?” 

You shrug, “It’s almost Christmas.”

Thomas laughs as he holds tight to your belly. He kisses your neck as you turn your attention back to the stovetop. 

“Girls, can you set the table for me? Food’s almost ready.” 

The girls scramble up and grab flatware and plates from the cabinets before heading into the kitchen. Once gone, Thomas snuggles into you more.

“You know, I saw you all sleeping in bed together last night. Best sight of my life— well, besides that one you gave me that second night in Hawaii.

You swat at Thomas’s arm and he watches your face and neck heat up at the memory of just how skimpy that lingerie set had been, and how very impractical for getting to the activities you wanted to enjoy so badly. 

“All in bed together. My three perfect girls,” he hums.

You turn in his arms once again. You stare at your feet for a moment before looking up to meet his eyes. “Four,” you say, before adding more softly, “maybe.” 

Thomas’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. When it clicks, he stares into your eyes. You nod, a smile tear rolling down your cheek.

Thomas can’t stop his hands from moving from your back to your stomach, cradling at your stomach. There is nothing there to feel yet, no lump or movement or even a hint of the growth happening deep within. But he knows and that is all the matters.

“Your daughter, my daughter, and now our daughter,” you whisper up to him, placing you palms on top of his. Thomas’s tears fall downward onto your joined hands.

He chokes a little on his laugh, “All I hear you saying is, ‘our three daughters.’”

You smile at him then, and Thomas thinks it may be the single most beautiful sight he’s ever seen— even more than that second night in Hawaii. 

You spend a beat just holding each other, each feeling the moment, the pure joy of building your life together into something filled with the kinds of joy only true love can bring. A call from the girls in the other room means that finally, and regrettably, you pull away.

“Check your stocking,” you say before turning once more to the stove and plating breakfast. As you head into the dining room, Thomas heads to the living room where your Christmas tree stands tall, expanding up into the vaulted ceiling. On the mantle sits four stockings, each a little different and each still empty— that is until he notices the tiny little lump inside his white knit one with green holly on the lining.

He reaches for the bag and pulls out the contents: a small plastic stick displaying two lines and a second for good measure, an ultrasound photo showing a bean-shaped sack containing a small, but distinctly human, embryo measuring 7 weeks, 6 day, and a pocket calendar showing the date of the ultrasound, the date of your last period almost 8 weeks ago, and the assumed date of conception… and the pair of impossibly skimpy panties you had been wearing right before it happened.

Thomas laughs. Of course that’s how it would go. It was good to know his swimmers agreed at just how undeniably sexy you had been riding him that night.

Thomas replaces everything in his stocking — except the panties. He pockets those. Couldn’t have him pulling those out Christmas morning in front of the girls, at least that was the logical reason he gave in his mind. And with a smile too wide to contain, Thomas entered the dining room where his three (or maybe four) girls were eating their breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> https://ardentmuse.tumblr.com/post/189687133781/his-three-girls-thomas-mendez-x-reader


End file.
